


How Bad Can I Be?

by MiryelENG (Miryel)



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Disturbing Themes, Kidnapping, Memory, No Ship, Psychoanalysis, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, This is very dark, Violence, evil morty - Freeform, fucking bastard evil morty, i can't help falling in love with morty, i'm in love with evil morty, morty smith - Freeform, needs a hug, rick has emotion you know, rick sanchez - Freeform, self-sacrificing Rick, vat of acid episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27443371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miryel/pseuds/MiryelENG
Summary: On a night like any other, Morty's balance is broken by an unexpected visit that will lead him to discover a truth he never really wanted to realize. In front of him, his exact copy but with a cruel and merciless streak that shines in the only visible eye, breaks it in two and devours it into a thousand pieces.The connecting link is always, inevitably Rick and this, as always, will not lead to anything good.
Relationships: Evil Morty & Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Rick Sanchez & Morty Smith
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**_[ENGLISH ISN'T MY PRIMARY LANGUAGE]_ **

_"Nobody exists on purpose, nobody belongs anywhere, everyone is gonna die."_

_\- Morty Smith_

**How Bad Can I Be?**

**Chapter One:**

It's not Rick's hand that dragging him out of bed this time. He would recognize them among a thousand, those tapered fingers tightly wrapped around his ankle without any kindness - and these fingers, right now, are painful. And Rick is never painful, at least not with gestures.

Morty opens his eyes suddenly and feels the floor rubbing down his back, and his body is pulled away by someone, then swallowed by the darkness of the house. He sees nothing, he hears only firm footsteps echoing in his head, still not quite awake to understand something. He only knows that his sticky mouth does not allow him to scream or protest about the brutality they are giving him and, when he is thrown like a sack of potatoes in a room, he bangs his head and moans, massaging it. The light comes on and reveals Rick's garage, but his grandfather is not in front of him ... but another Morty. An exact copy of him. At least so it seems, were it not for the fact that he wears a black patch over one eye, an elegant and impeccable dress and a sinister grin that casts a shadow between his expression lines. Something Morty doesn't know about.

His copy leans over him and, raising a finger to his face and moving it as if to say "no", punches him on the head and Morty nearly passes out. He hears the other one snapping his fingers; a familiar sound of portals opening echoes in his ears whistling from that blow and, shortly after, he feels himself gaining weight and someone ties him to a chair; very tight. So strong that even contemplating running away seems like the right thought. He feels something wet coming down from his nose. It reaches the mouth and feels the unpleasant taste of iron. It's blood.

«A nice little place, this. It was a lifetime since I had entered one of my grandfather's garages,» says the kid, a decidedly dark Morty, covered in shadows and too many cheeky smiles. A  _ Morty _ not so Morty to exist in that reality. He is enough to feel fear and loneliness for both of them.

«W-who ... who ... the fuck are you?»

«What a stupid question, Morty Smith,» he says, « _ I am you _ . Or, at least, one of countless copies of you. The original, perhaps. Someone says I'm the most Morty of all Morty . Maybe they're right,» the other one replies and shrugs. Then he laughs, amused by that prospect, which instead makes Morty shiver.

«No... no Morty is more Morty than others.»

«And who told you this bullshit, Rick?»

«Maybe, but I… I… got to find out for myself. Rick just confirmed it.» He tries to get some balls out, the ones he's never had. He frowns, indignant, but that only breeds more hilarity in that unwanted guest.

«Oh, I understand. You're one of those Mortys who still clings to happy times and believes in Rick's bullshit. One of those who have not yet surrendered to the harsh reality,» chuckles his dark counterpart, pacing back and forth - the sound of the heels of elegant shoes breaking with a slight reverberation in that empty garage. Hands behind his back and chin raised proudly. Less Morty than any other Morty .

«I-I ... I don't think I've ever lived happy moments!» He exclaims, and is determined not to be overwhelmed in those ways. Abrupt, cruel and blunt enough to make him shiver. Not even Rick is that dark. Or maybe he's just used to that shadow that separates him from his grandfather and that he can't erase.

«Oh yes? Not even with the crazy old man?»

«It's complicated with Rick,» he replies, more confident. He didn't even stammer. Yet he is not even sure that he has told the sacred truth. It's really complicated with Rick, but he doesn't know how. There are times when he feels like they are equals, when his grandfather asks him -  _ ask? No, Rick never asks! It takes and never gives. Selfish and cruel to the core _ \- to join him in some adventures, and other moments in which he feels outside of a nucleus - the one in Rick's heart - in which no one is welcome, as that damned old man never leaves an open space to sneak into. Even just for a while. Even just to share something else other than an intergalactic journey where they risk dying every time. As if both were looking for nothing but that an end, in a life that no longer belongs to either of them, since the dimension they come from has become unlivable and they have taken refuge in the one where they are. Morty pretends not to remember, but he knows that family isn't really his. Than that  _ Beth _ , his real Morty, lost him in an explosion due to a miscalculation - Rick's mistake - even though he would never admit it; one of many, who killed those  _ others them _ and allowed them to sneak into those lives as replacements. Morty remembers it well, the moment he buried himself in the garden. And he remembers just as well the days after that, where he felt like a stranger in a world that knew him all too much but really doesn't know anything about him. Nothing at all.

It took him a lifetime to learn to pretend that in truth everything is fine and nothing has changed.

«It's always complicated with Rick,» snorts the other Morty «That's why I'm here,» he then says; he stops pacing back and forth and faces him. He bends his back and he is at two centimeters from his face. His grin is cruel and cold, detached. A deadly machine, a calculating soldier, a damned asshole wearing his face and a black patch over his right eye. Shoulders straight, never bent to the perennial and destructive inadequacy that every fucking Mortys carries on them. They are identical, yet so different, and if it weren't for the fact that he knows Rick more than anyone else, Morty would compare him to him.

No, not even Rick is that far from feeling. He feels them, but he closes them in an air bubble as fragile as glass. Sooner or later it will break, Morty knows, but he doesn't wait for that moment with trepidation, rather with dread of the consequences. Those he has learned to manage over time, but never completely¹.

«I-if ... if ... if you are looking for the portal gun, you know that..»

«The portal gun?» The other immediately stops him, raising a hand in front of his face. He bursts out laughing. So hard that his head leans back. Morty almost has the feeling that he can detach his head from his body at any moment. «Do you know where I come from? The Citadel is full of Ricks to steal it from! As if you needed it. I have my own. Where the hell do you think I came from?» Snap his fingers. Two portals open behind him, and two Ricks armed with rifles flank him. One on the right and one on the left. Too silent to be Rick's. Too submissive.

It is no longer shocking for Morty to see his grandfather doubled, tripled, fivefold. He is not even afraid of not knowing how to recognize him, among many others. The Rick who drags him around the infinite realities that exist in space-time has different eyes. Each Ricks has different eyes, just like each Mortys. No one is truly alike. Maybe it's a relief, maybe not.

«Wh-wh-what do you want, then?»

The evil Morty folds his lips down. A thoughtful expression spreads across his face - Morty doesn't know if it's ironic or not. He smooths his chin with one hand and then raises his eyebrows. «The only thing that really belongs to you, Morty Smith. Your Rick,» he says, finally, less poisonous than it has been until now, then he gets back straight on his back. He starts walking back and forth again. It's unnerving. « _ Yours _ ,» he repeats then, huffing out a laugh. «We both know he's not really your Rick, is he?»

«Nobody belongs to anyone,» he murmurs, and feels pain in his wrists. The ropes tighten too much, they hurt. They will leave their mark on his skin. He feels like crying.

«No,  even if it seems absurd , I agree with you but… in purely _ family _ terms, of true bonding, your Rick was never yours. Neither Beth nor Summer. You're just a copy, a copy, a copy ... or rather: a replacement. »

«I-I don't belong to… to… this family either. Not for real. My real family is… elsewhere,» Morty says, voice trembling. He would like it to be safer; he would like to have the same impudence as that Morty. At least for a while. At least for now. Just so as not to get mad as usual.

He has faced a thousand different adventures, touched the dead on several occasions, but confronting himself with such an opposite self annihilates him. It's a bit like facing yourself and not knowing how to do it.

The other Morty doesn't seem interested in that story. He doesn't care about any other Morty but him - and he doesn't care about any Ricks other than the one Morty is dealing with.

«Why» Morty asks, alone, and looks away, when he can't hold the other, too cruel.

He approaches again and faces him. He snaps his fingers again and the two Ricks at his side point their guns at Morty's head, who backs away just as far as the rope will allow. He squints, he is afraid of dying but he is ready. He didn't take into account the possibility of getting out of that garage alive; He survived everything, and now he will be killing by another him.

«Why, you ask? Because your Rick is no more special than others, as he wants you to believe. Because he's not the only smartest man in the universe. Because he goes around telling lies and leaves the family as soon as things get uncomfortable. Because your Rick doesn't belong to you, it belongs to me.»

«Wh-what? No, it can't be, he never told me t-»

The bad Morty laughs. Rudely. His laughter echoes between the walls and in the heart. It vibrates it and tears it, breaks it. He breaks it into a thousand fragments of glass. Morty doesn't even hear it beat anymore.

«Your Rick is my original Rick, whether you like it or not, Morty Smith,» he finally declares, voicing what Morty feared but would never believe and perhaps still doesn't believe. Rick would have told him. Rick would have done it. Rick... no, he never would. Never. Because he's a liar, an infamous and a bloody numb asshole. He opens his eyes and puts them in the uncovered one of the other; his grin widens, satisfied. From his disappointment or the courage just shown? Morty doesn't know.

«So tell me where it is, or I'll blow your head off and find out by myself analyzing your crushed brain.»

The two armed Ricks push their weapons against his temple. They hurt, very bad. He already feels the heat of the bullets in his head. He closes his eyes again.

Rick deserves nothing, neither respect nor his silence, which can reserve him a long life to the detriment of his own. Morty may speak and save himself, but Morty is not Rick. Morty is damn loyal and pure. And it will continue to be until the end of its days.

«Well?» The other urges him, and his voice breaks into a tinge of impatience.

«So what, asshole? I'm here. I've always been here.»

They all turn towards that voice and no one, for whole seconds, has the courage to say anything.

Nothing at all. And Rick looks at them, expressionless, from the garage door, as if no one is going to kill his nephew. As if he didn't give a fuck about the consequences.

He hasn't learned anything from that vat of acid either.

**To be Continued...**

¹ reference to the episode "the episode of the vat of acid" where Morty deals with the consequences.

**Author Notes:**

Maybe nobody cares, but I finished seeing Rick & Morty recently - I kind of devoured it and, after the Rick Citadel episode, this story popped into my head. I searched the internet for various theories and although this Morty’s Rick is the original Evil Morty’s Rick doesn't drive me crazy, I must say it was the fuel to push me to start it, so here I am! It will be a minilong and, I hope with all my heart, that it will not be abandoned like my other projects. I don't usually publish in progress but I'm honest: I couldn't wait to throw it to the world to get some feedback and understand if I'm dealing with everything well and if the characters are IC.

Let me know what you think, if you like!

I don't ship Rick & Morty, so pls don't see us anything but a grandfather / grandson relationship, okay ç_ç

I hope to soon


	2. Chapter II

[English isn't my primary language]

Chapter II

Mortys always remain Mortys, and Ricks always remain Ricks.

Sometimes, despite the differences given by different experiences, there are defects that cannot be changed in people, even if they are so similar that the legs tremble. And, despite that Morty is so sure of himself, he shares a flaw with everyone else that nothing can ever erase: unwarranted determination. 

Whether it's for pure justice or for personal gain, Rick has learned that every Morty is not able to give up, not even when he pretends to do it to comply with his will and even when it would only take to surrender. And, this sometimes distracts them from everything else; so much so that not even a witty Morty like that noticed his presence at the door, too busy doing harm. And no one noticed Rick was there, watching anyone other than him mistreat his nephew. Only he, with Morty's psychology, has never played this dirty. Perhaps because it is not needed, perhaps because, within himself, he knows that that kid doesn't deserve it. 

The darker Morty looks at him, still leaning over the crushed figure of his grandson and, standing up on his back, puts on a cruel smile and folds his hands behind him sternly. Satisfaction crosses his eyes like a comet glinting suddenly in the sky. He looks him up and down. Rick only lets him do it because, after all, he has nothing left to hide.

"Just in time. Even if you're not here by chance and… isn't it strange that you showed up just a moment before I blew his brains out? »He asks, then gestures to the other two Ricks to get away from Morty, and for how long Rick he is trying not to show that he cares, he feels relieved. Though Morty looks at him in shock, more than many times - perhaps never so much and, stuck in his eyes, bubbles of tears stand still waiting to roll down his cheeks. Except maybe it's the anger that keeps them there, like Morty doesn't want to give them the satisfaction of crying. None of them. 

He almost died to save him and Rick hasn't told him anything yet. Nothing at all. He just looks at him, and he knows that Morty has that word, tight between his teeth, that he would like to scream in his face with all the power of that shrill voice that he finds himself. _Liar, he_ would like to tell him, and Rick knows he is and wouldn't even reply.

"The universe is full of Mortys," he replies alone. Cross your arms across your chest and snort. He pretends to be annoyed and he is a little bit annoyed, but most of all he is annihilated by the past that I return, by memories he does not want to remember, by moments of life that were only mistakes. Mistakes that with the Morty with whom he shares his adventures he has always tried not to commit, letting purity and determination always win on that hidden side that Morty carries with him, that he does not yet know, and that Rick hopes he will never know . Only to not see him become like this, like his _real_ Morty: resentment, anger, hatred and cruelty. No insecurity, just a brilliant mind in the body of a little boy who has lacked too many affections.

"Is that what you tell yourself so as not to feel guilty?" We both know it's not true, Rick »replies the other smoothly. He licks his lips and then raises his uncovered eye to the sky, laughing. 

“I leave the feelings of guilt to mere mortals and to Jerry. Each Morty has its own weaknesses that cannot be straightened out. You are not an exception, Cyclops », he replies, and when Morty moves in his chair, agitated, he just gives him a quick glance, before returning to confront his biggest mistake. The one thing he created that he should have destroyed instantly, as soon as it got out of hand. 

“It's your pathetic irony that can't be fixed, old fool. The years have softened you, and this soulless puppet is more close to your heart than you might think. Or you wouldn't be here. Running away would have given you a good advantage over me, the price would only be his life and that of his family. The _her_ , not _you_. " 

"Not even mine!" Morty corrects him, passing his angry gaze from that of his evil counterpart to that of Rick, who would just like to tell him to shut up and not to complicate things; that his role in that matter is over and he doesn't want him involved. Too dangerous, too risky. He doesn't want her to die and has come to terms with this sentimentality for a while. 

His shit remains his and he has to face it without running away. Over the years he has understood that escaping only leads to increasingly irremediable and, at times, painful consequences. 

That vat of acid, after all, maybe something taught him. 

"Nobody asked your opinion, Morty!" He yells at him, giving him a stern look.

"No? Well, I'm here because you're a goddamn son of a bitch, liar and careless! I'm here because because of your bullshit I get involved in things that don't belong to me! My opinion counts as much as yours and the day you realize it I n- " 

"Hey, what arrogance!" Exclaims the evil Morty, not before starting with a dry laugh. He points to Morty with his thumb, turning his gaze to Rick, whose hands have started shaking, too close to the laser pistol hidden under his lab coat. “Isn't that how it started? With me rebelling against you, grandfather? " 

"You're a separate case, little shit!" He's just an idiot who doesn't understand how stupid - and dangerous - it is to meddle in matters that don't concern him. " 

The evil Morty chuckles behind the index finger raised in front of his mouth, then shrugs. "I was about to shoot him in the head: a little bit of it concerns him." 

“But it's me you want, he was just the way to find me. You found me, so stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want ", he urges him, trying to hide the desire to tell him that he has only one goal, right now: he wants me to free Morty and let him go away, far away, and that he won't look for more. He is a Morty like any other, it has nothing to do with it, he just has the misfortune of having stumbled upon the wrong Rick. 

"Ah-a. Not so fast! Don't you think your puppet should know? Your lies must be exposed, Rick. He has the right to know why I am here and why I _am like this_. But above all, he has a right to know why _he is_ n't. "

The air smells of freshly evaporated acid. It corrodes the lungs and soul, perhaps even the heart, but Rick keeps it locked in a closet made of the same material as a nuclear bunker. He doesn't want to feel anything and doesn't allow his body to react to feelings, but it's hard. What he feels is pure chemistry; mathematical formulas that build moods and bonds, but are so hard to dismiss, sometimes, that not even he owns them. Not always. And now is not exactly the right time to try everything. 

"I don't think interest," he cuts short, and Morty is still fidgeting in that chair holding him captive. He kicks, paws, he has no control. He's angry and Rick knows it, and he deserves it, but he doesn't want to make things worse.

"Instead I'm interested!" 

"No, you don't care! It doesn't concern you and stay out of it, you idiot! Each Morty has its own story, and this isn't yours! "

"They nearly killed me for your bullshit, Rick!" 

"And they didn't, so shut up and don't make me do-" 

“Okay, that's enough, kids! I find it extremely amusing to see you arguing, but I am already fed up and I am not going to listen a second more. _He_ wants to know and you are the right person to tell. Isn't it nice that a grandfather tells a good story to his grandson? », The other intervenes, and takes a step towards him. It looks taller. Taller than any other Morty, but the truth is, he's just straighter. He doesn't have that insecurity about him that bends him forward, like any damn Morty that wasn't raised _that way_. There is no trace of fear, there are no gnashed teeth from the sense of inadequacy that is part of all other than him. There is no gaze that wanders everywhere, aimlessly, without a fixed point. But the staple of that Morty is him, Rick. Its goal, its goal. His victim. His revenge.

"A nice story? This? What should I tell him? That you are my original Morty and that we share the same universe? End of the story, it wasn't that difficult and I think he already understood it when you told him, with your fucking doing », he replies hastily. Raise your hands in mid-air and show them to him. “If you have to handcuff me and take me away, do it now. I hate fucking waiting. I'm for time wasters and fourth-rate action movies. " 

The other Morty gestures for him to drop his hands. He clicks his tongue, almost irritated by his feigned compliance. "There are many details that should be explained, but perhaps they are too painful for someone like you," he challenges him, taking a step forward. He bends her back and looks at him. 

Rick studies it, but there is nothing behind that look. It's cryptic, hiding too many things Rick hasn't been able to see in that Morty for a long time. He moves his gaze to the other, frowning and disappointed, and with a sigh he turns to him.

"Do you really want to know everything, Morty?" 

"Everything," replies his nephew, in a tone of reproach that on other occasions would make him laugh, but not today. So it is trapped. Surrounded by old memories and the desperation of not being able to create others, in that universe, with that Morty to which, by now he knows, he is fond of. 

"So be it," he begins, then gives another sigh and goes back in time, too long ago. To a small child held in his arms who smiles at him and who cannot speak yet. He exudes his feelings with dark and sparkling eyes and makes him feel weak feelings in his heart, which always remind him of the moment in which, in those arms, he had held Beth. A small Beth unaware that she is the daughter _of the worst father in the world_. "There is a universe where you and Summer were raised according to a very specific scientific and educational scheme, away from the wearying influences of your parents, where neither of you has ever felt a mistake - in Summer's case an unwelcome pregnancy. , in your case a useless container of fears and restlessness. " 

"Thanks to you, Rick," the dark Morty interjects, but his isn't a compliment, it looks more like an accusation. He crosses his arms across his chest and, with a mocking grin, glances at the other Morty, incredulous, even more inadequate than he normally is. Rick knows he has put the reality of his own existence before him; just threw in his face the reasons why he and Summer are so ... strange and twisted, different from their peers, broken, always looking for a place to belong and a good word from their parents, always so damn in conflict with each other. So often that we forget that children are to be loved and not forgotten or made only an irremediable mistake; a failure. 

And Rick, failure, sees it in Morty's eyes every fucking day. And that other Morty - his, the original one, was lucky enough to live a different, better life, but at what price?

"Merit? I guess you inherited all of this pungent irony from me. " 

“I inherited a lot of things from you. The biggest mistake was to allow it. But I see that with him you fixed the shot. " 

"W-what ... what does that mean? How is it possible that Summer and I, in your universe, aren't… aren't we? ”Morty asks, and inside that question Rick hears a plea for help, the aftermath of that disappointment that doesn't leave Morty's voice. It seems to be asking them to fix things there too, if anything they will survive. It seems to ask him to improve his life and make him a better person. As if Rick could ...

“Use your brains, Morty! I raised you! Do you really think that your mother and that failed father of yours are capable of doing it? With you and the Summer you know it wasn't like that, because things were different _there_! I had the task of looking after you, especially you. Of _this_ you. Keeping him away from Jerry and Beth has done nothing but undo a nature that is in the nature of the Mortys, something that you and everyone else carry with you: the inadequacy. A Morty detoxified from a twisted bond like that is pure arrogance and intelligence. A monster, a danger, and I was a real jerk not to understand that the smartest man in the universe could only create this. " 

"We're not that bad, you know? Once the insecurity is gone, we are much more than what people think, ”says the evil Morty, addressing his double, with some satisfaction, and never losing that cutting tone that sets him so different from any Morty.

His grandson is speechless. Bewildered eyes scan him for sensible answers, and his eyes are filled with tears again. I am now the mirror of fear. The fear of having blown a lifetime, due to the wrong influences. "My parents…" 

“Morty, you know it too. They are who they are, and all they have done is get lost in bullshit, throwing up their frustrations on you two. You have become recipients of malaise and anger, and you and Summer do nothing but seek someone's approval. And the suitor from me. Because, in spite of everything, I have never given you the opportunity to feel wrong. " 

"W-what? Rick, this is bullshit! Bullshits! You do nothing but mortify me every time I do something wrong or when I don't do what you say! You do nothing but confront me with my inability to adapt! You do nothing but contradict me, every time I try to share some ideas! " 

"And you don't stop fighting and insisting, you ungrateful piece of shit!" Your determination is proof that this is the case. With your family you do not even try to make yourself heard! With me yes, because you know, Morty. You know!" 

"Thing? What I know?"

"That, in spite of everything, he listens to you," the other Morty replies, instead of Rick and doesn't even take the words out of his mouth because, the way he is, he would never admit it. He would never admit that he wants Morty on his suicide missions because it gives color to time and makes it less fragmented, more linear. He likes sharing with him, it makes him feel less alone, although loneliness, in a certain sense, Rick thinks he deserves it and wants it, but that's not always the case. No human being can be alone for too long. 

He needs Morty as much as Morty needs him - that father figure he has always missed and found in his grandfather; not in Jerry, never do anything good, that fucking failure. And Rick needs that mate who understands or who, even when he doesn't, adapts and pretends to. That does not stop him, that recognizes his merits and errors, without ever really judging him. Morty admires him and he shouldn't, but that's okay. Even just to feel alive in a universe that is tight even if it is infinite. 

“The biggest mistake I've made. Listen to you and give yourself a way to take control, ”Rick says, turning to his original Morty, who shrugs and giggles, satisfied with that admission.

“You should have known: Raising a Morty without restraining it would have spawned a war machine. Rational, calculating, intelligent, arrogant and with your science and knowledge in hand. A Morty who assimilates your cynicism and makes it his own, while remaining outside the pure and kind boy he should have become. Every Morty who grew up without you is a weak puppet that you can shape your way, like a dried piece of clay. Not me, Rick. _I am different._ " 

“You're a little piece of shit that shouldn't even exist! You are my biggest mistake, my universal failure and I should have shot you in the head the day I decided to leave! " 

"Go away? No, Rick, you didn't go away. You _ran away_. Things got out of hand and you decided to leave me on that planet, hoping with all your heart that I wouldn't get away with it. But no, the Rick's Interdimensional Council found me - or rather, I let myself be found, and the climb began at the exact moment I found out that you were wandering around the multiverses, running away again, and again ... because that's what you can do in your miserable life: run away! Run away from me! " He says it with such anger that if he has less control over his body, Rick will back away. Instead, he has no control over that situation, because it is so real that it makes him angry. He runs away, it's true, he always has since Diane died. Ever since he saw her die in front of his eyes and he couldn't do anything to save her. He proclaims himself as God but he is only weak and, in the head, 

"Rick ...?" Morty calls him, and although he didn't say anything, in that recall he felt the desire to be told that it wasn't. That he didn't run away, that he didn't lie, that he won't run away again. 

_Grandpa is here, he doesn't run away anymore. I promised, I'll stay with you until the end. I swear I don't run away from my family anymore. I promised Diane._

Except, despite thinking it, he can't say it and doesn't believe it. Except, right now, if he gets a chance to escape, he'll just do it to save Morty and his family, the one he's only half a part of. Just like he did that time, when he turned himself into intergalactic prison with the hope that the Smith family could heal something, in their tangled unhappy journey. You know that every Smith family needs a life without Rick to really function ...

"It's true. I hoped that some shit of alien monster would eat you alive and free me forever of this damned miscalculation that you are, Morty! »He exclaims, turning again to the other Morty, the wrong one, the one that doesn't reflect all the others. The one who is his original Morty but which differs too much from the rest of the flock. The only Morty he can't control but has controlled him in the past. A horrible feeling of helplessness that resurfaces even at that juncture, where he knows that that control has returned to annihilate him and that he cannot do anything about it. Where the bound Morty looks at him and feels cast aside, as always, failing to understand that it is only for his own good and that, if he has kept it from him, it was only to maintain a dignity that Rick knows he no longer possesses. 

"You are so cowardly that you didn't even have the courage to kill me with your hands!" The other Morty grits his teeth. There were expectations in that Morty, although at the time he had stopped listening to him and indulging him, only because he was too aware of his own potential. Something that divided them, destroyed them and made each other's nemesis. So similar, but that Morty with a rationality and patience that made him more powerful, more dangerous, and more destructive - a Morty that doesn't lack the flaws of an old scientist. So Rick has only one mission now, and as much as that newborn's big black eyes come to mind every time he looks at him, weakening his heart, he knows he has only one choice and it's the only one that really makes sense. 

"So what do you want from me?" Finally, he urges him because what there was to say has been said. Morty, the one he shared adventures with until yesterday, listened enough and got no answers, just kicks in the face, as always. Then it is better to close that matter there, in one way only. To surrender himself and let, for once, no escape add up to his repertoire. 

Like that time in prison, but this time with no return. 

«I want _you._ Your head, your brain, your knowledge! I want to suck out every damn memory and make it mine, extend my genius by merging it with yours! Command the Citadel is not enough for me, I want the universe, I want everything! And this is the only way. The only way! And the only Rick who can give me all this is you! " 

"Oh I see! So that time it was pretty bankrupt, huh! You didn't totally succeed in taking away every memory and feeding your puppet _Rick_ with my genius», he teases him, with a smirk and a sneer just to irritate him, but it seems impossible. Too calculating, too rational, too firm. That Morty is inexplicably devoid of the sense of surprise that sets every other Morty apart.

«To err is human, in my case it was enlightening. I didn't need to put on any theater, and with the Citadel in my hands, it was much easier to reach you without anyone questioning or doubting me. You will be amazed to see that, since the last time you came, things have changed a lot there. There's no Morty or Rick who doesn't obey me, ”he explains, and sticks his hands in his pockets, satisfied. 

_Satisfied_. It almost makes you angry every time you see him crossed by this feeling, which shines in his open eye. In the other eye he must have implanted some control device, which moves the Citadel to his liking and bends it to his will. Something that Rick would be able to build to dominate the whole world but that he does not implement for that shred of civilization and humanity that are left in his heart.

So he looks at Morty, the good, insecure, trembling one - who isn't even shaking anymore. He has only the anxiety of seeing everything end, and the hope that he will do it in the best way. He has dragged him everywhere and, despite everything, they have shared much more than he could have hoped for and, even if he would like to deny it, he owes him that attempt to save him. To save them both, because Rick is not ready to die, let alone let a kid steal his knowledge and do it his own, dismantling his huge ego. 

"Not all Ricks," he says, and with a lightning gesture, he takes out the laser gun and points it to his temple. The two Ricks, who until then have remained silent next to Morty, move fast and take their weapons against him. The evil Morty, on the other hand, doesn't let a single crease on his face, rather he spreads his grin and sighs. 

"The smartest Rick in the universe, huh?" He teases, then glances at the two Ricks, ready to carry out his every order. “Are you really sure it's a wise move? I have an ace up my sleeve, or do you really think I'm an idiot, like _any damned_ Morty. "

Rick snorts in amusement. "An ace in the ass? As soon as I shoot you, you have already transferred your conscience to one of those Ricks and will you shoot me? And to be on the safe side, did you bring two? Predictable, the meticulousness given by anxiety: a prerogative of you Morty. " He holds the gun tighter in his hands and glances at Morty, _his_ Morty, petrified. 

“A predictable plan for someone like you. Yet impregnable. I have two options, but I'm sure I'll only need one. Take that gun off my forehead, Rick, and no one will get hurt. " The arrogant Morty snaps his fingers; the two Ricks return to point their weapons at the Morty tied up in the chair and Rick's heart trembles, which makes him skip a beat. He narrows his eyes, he knows what to do. It is the only way. The only damn way.

"All right," he says calmly, then sticks the weapon to his temple and takes a step forward. The others jump on their shoulders, taken aback, and make one back, displaced. 

Morty stares at him with wide eyes, wide open mouth, and new tears redden his cheeks. He begs him to stop, not to, in a faint voice that is barely audible; maybe Rick just imagined it. 

He pushes the gun harder to his temple, too determined not to fail again. Not this time.

_The smartest man in the universe - and the most unhappy._

**_To Be continued..._ **


	3. Chapter III

_**| Chapter III** _

If there is a god, right now, he is ignoring the world. He has turned his gaze elsewhere, on less important things; things that certainly need his attention most, and though Morty no longer believes in him, in that celestial entity his grandfather compares himself to too often, he finds himself stammering his name - invoking it, faintly, between his lips wet with tears and excruciating pain in the wrists. He wants to break free, only to stop Rick and then punch him until he fainted. He wants to hurt him; all the possible harm, which is not even comparable to what he is feeling, right now, while the grandfather pushes that gun to his temple, arrogating himself the right to keep on a confident and amused expression, as if it really was there. something to laugh about right now. As if that gesture, if anything it will do, could give someone a comfort. No, not even his evil counterpart would bring an advantage, but only the loss of _sensitive data_ , _files_ , _information._ Because to that asshole, Rick is just that: a container of everything, every fucking thing that exists in the world. Too much knowledge channeled into the body of a gruff and vulgar old man, but who hides inside a piece of heart that still beats. 

And that's what prompted him to do that, and Morty knows it; and, although he shouldn't feel the reason Rick is doing it, he feels the same way, because he is. Even the end of the world would be blamed if it came now, at this moment. 

The evil Morty takes a step back when Rick takes one forward and threatens to pull the trigger, wrapped around a hand that doesn't even shake, even though it should. How the fuck can he not be afraid of dying? How the fuck does he do that without feeling remotely afraid of death?

"Rick", the other Morty calls him, and the grandfather snorts amused, before leaning towards him, looking for a look, which he reciprocates, but this time he is devoid of that evil light that characterized him up to that moment , because he had the situation under control and now not anymore. Now he's a Morty like any other. 

"What the hell do you want? You want my brain, then what? You'll kill me, I guess. A Rick of my caliber is potentially dangerous to someone like you. You wouldn't want to keep me alive, am I right? " 

“Right guess, you idiot, so why don't you just do what I tell you? You would die anyway, in any case », replies the other, between his teeth, in the showy and pathetic scenario of a boy who is losing his temper. He chews his lower lip for a second. 

“It's not the same, asshole! If my fate is to die, I'll decide how! I'm in control of every damn thing; on me, on you, on Morty, on the universe! I'm God, son of a bitch! "

«All right, go ahead! In any case, I'll take what I want, ”chuckles the evil Morty, after a pause spent looking at something he hasn't found: which is a reason why Rick is doing this. Except that Morty understands his intentions perfectly well, and perhaps they are even worse than what awaits him if he follows the others to the Rick Citadel. His grandfather has no choice, but he _chooses_ to _choose_ and he does, in any case, losing himself… because by taking responsibility for his own death, he can still win. Because Morty understood, he understood all too well what he wants to do. They all think he's stupid, but he's the only one among them who understands Rick's true intentions. 

“I don't think so, little shit. This is a laser gun. From such a distance I can destroy every single molecule in my brain and you will be left with just another lifeless puppet; a puppet. I really hope there is an afterlife, because I don't want to lose your face, when your filthy little hands slip into my skull and find nothing to steal. " How the fuck does he find this extremely funny? How does he laugh even in the face of death, putting his fucking pride and his fake omnipotence in the way? How can he not take _anything_ seriously, not even that? Rick is a prick, but he has often shown a very fine and hidden sensitivity, and Morty just seems to be the protagonist of a damn nightmare. 

"Rick ?!" he screams, through tears - of anger, this time.

Rick colds him in place by raising his free hand towards him. “Shut up, Morty! I told you to stay out of it! " 

"What the fuck are you doing?" He asks, ignoring that warning, too caught up in the moment to fly over. Too involved, even though Rick thinks he isn't. 

"Stay out of it!" The other Morty admonishes, raising one hand to him too, while the other clenches into a fist of pure helplessness. “He's trying to save you, that's why he's bullying with sterile threats! Shut up, before I take you out. "

"Save it? No, I'm trying to take away the privilege of taking something that isn't yours and that you can't handle, Morty: my genius. " 

«It's the stupidest move I've ever seen in my life!», The other laughs, but there is a nervous vibration in that gesture and, the tremor in his shoulders, betrays his intent to still be master of the situation. Rick seems extremely pleased with it, when he folds his mouth into a horribly contented smile. 

"Life? Fourteen years of life? What seasoned man are you? Fucking with your copies of Jessica and running the Citadel doesn't make you a grown man. " 

“Rick, you are missing the point: you shoot yourself in the head and all you will do is certainly not spare the life of your fake nephew. I will still have what I want; there are millions of Ricks who are almost your level. " Attempting to reason with him seems almost pathetic right now. Morty sees it, the difficulty in his good eye, of quickly looking for a solution that doesn't involve the worst solution. Mount excuses, solutions that are not decisive, but only palliatives. Morty sees it, he knows, because in any case, even if what's in front of him doesn't quite look like him, it's not quite his opposite. Panic annihilates Mortys, crushes them, makes them _stupid_ , even if they aren't. 

" _Almost_! No Rick is me, and it's me you want! "

«And you, instead, what do you want to not do it? What price do you ask? " 

Negotiations. Proof that each of them will lose something to us anyway, but the evil Morty is willing to keep out of that equation. He crosses his arms behind his back and waits, proudly raising his mind, but it trembles. He trembles with impatience. He trembles with fear. 

Rick snorts in amusement. "Now let's think," he begins, then Morty feels his eyes on him for a moment. They seem to tell him everything and nothing, then he stops looking at him purses his lips, before continuing. He seems to be savoring the taste of the words, before uttering them. “You will leave the Smith family alone, you will free Morty, you will never get close to this family again, and whatever you want to do, leave this reality alone. For the rest, destroy what you want! " 

A silence descends broken only by the subtle noise of the ropes being stretched, the ones that still keep Morty tied to that chair. He no longer feels his arms or even his legs and feet, buried under the chair, tied together, which block any intention of stopping the madness that his grandfather is trying to commit: that negotiation that sees none of them winners.

The evil Morty raises his eyebrows, opens his uncovered eye, then folds his mouth in a smile and, shortly after, leans his head and starts laughing. His laughter echoes in the garage like the scream of a monster caught in chaos. He places a hand on his forehead, as if he wanted to give himself an attitude; shrugs and snorts away a last bit of that laugh, which is pure satisfaction. Back to being less _Morty_ than anyone would be. 

"That's all? Do you want me to save them and the dimension they live in? Controlling the universe would include everything but, hey, an exception for an old friend I can do! "

“I'm not your friend, Morty. I'm your grandfather, and I don't like that either. So, do we have an agreement? " 

The other Morty looks him up and down with a hand on his chin, then points at him. 

"Only if you admit, then, that you care about this ... _puppet,_ " he says contemptuously, giving Morty a look that pierces him in the chest. It makes him jump. He doesn't know what to say - or rather, he doesn't know how to say it. He would have so much to share right now ...

«Didn't I admit it by saying that I want the salvation of this dimension? Are you deaf? »Says Rick, with a click of the tongue that is almost disgusting - almost as much as his steady gaze, with that gun still pointed at his head. 

“You didn't say that, you stupid old man! I want you to admit it now, saying something like _I care, I'm a sentimental and I can't bear to lose my beloved nephew_! Here, such a thing. I'd like you to put some feeling into it, and maybe a little poetry. " Taken for the ass given by a boundless power wedged between a snap of fingers, which commands his Ricks, the Citadel and, soon, the entire universe.

An arrogant Morty is a dangerous Morty. An arrogant Morty is not a Morty. In no world. The least Morty Morty of all. 

Rick looks at him as if that challenge hadn't affected him in any way, and maybe it does, but Morty is convinced that the real motivation is that his grandfather has come to terms with death, accepted it and therefore has nothing to do with it. to lose. Not even dignity. 

He wishes he didn't say it and that, for some reason, not doing it could save them both, or at least just his grandfather. Because her mother has waited so long for his return, and losing him again would destroy her. Maybe a lot more than losing his son would. 

Rick glances at him, as if he wants to tell him that he doesn't even have to think about that bullshit. As if he had read his mind by doing a carbon scan. Rick, this ability to understand it even with just a look, after all, he always had. 

"Agree. I care, I do it for him and his family and I want them to be safe; is the only desire I have. Are you happy now? "

Evil Morty looks at him again, then steps forward, confident. He seems to think about it like it really matters that Rick said it, but the truth is, he's just amused by that situation where he has everything in his hands, control of everything, even his own fear. Morty thinks he would like to be, but at the same time he would like not to be, if these are the consequences of such self-confidence. 

Kind of like Rick, but at least he still has principles. 

"Not bad. I was not totally satisfied, but I couldn't expect more from you. "

"Good," Rick says succinctly. "So we have an agreement?" 

The other laughs, and when the grandfather shows him his hand to shake it, he waits a few seconds before raising his. He gives him a skeptical look, which then vanishes into the madness of an eye that craves _everything_ and can now have it. "We have a deal, Rick." 

"No! Rick! Rick! ”Morty screams, but it's too late. They shake hands and, as they shake it, Rick laughs. He laughs heartily, but with a coldness that displaces. 

He laughs, because Rick has won. 

"Well done, you idiot!" He exclaims, and then it happens. It happens, and Morty opens his eyes wide. 

The shot breaks the sound barrier, so much so that maybe he hasn't even heard it. He only sees bits of burnt brain and blood splashing off the right side of his grandfather's head, crashing into the wall and, shortly after, the thud of Rick's body on the ground is an atomic bomb in the head. Silent, still, _dead._

Rick is dead, he did. He shot himself, and Morty knows why. He knows that there is no dignity in that gesture and that, if he has done so, it is to remain a free man. Pity didn't scratch him either, but he wanted to believe in that agreement. Evil Morty shook his hand, vowed not to twist a hair on the Smith family and that dimension, only that piece of shit will never keep that promise, Morty knows, so it was all in vain. All damn useless. 

He cries. He has done nothing more than when he entered that garage and, if he had his hands free right now, he would cover his mouth and eyes, but this just not to look, not to see what is a recurring nightmare that in the end it was fulfilled, even if he never told and admitted it, even to Rick. Especially Rick. 

Rick was never supposed to know how sensitive Morty is. Up to what level. Up to _that_ level, which he now has no reason to hide or annihilate to prove himself better than he is. 

The other Morty is motionless, his hand still in midair, distraught; he stares at Rick's dead body and doesn't say a word, he just stays frozen in the midst of the failure that awaits him, now that he can no longer have what he wanted. The last target, destroyed. Rick's brain charred, still emitting smoke from the hole in his head. Eyes wide open on the ceiling. 

The same ceiling that Morty feels crumble over him, like a boulder, as his heart skips too many beats. 

Rick is dead and, with him, all hope; for the first time, Morty realizes how much something that seemed not to have that much importance, does.

  
**_To Be Continued..._**


	4. Ending

**Chapter IV - Ending**

  
  
Dead. He's dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead. Dead! 

He existed before and now he isn't, and Morty's mind is like icing dripping from his ears: a self-imposed cancellation by a psyche that can't assimilate that loss and, at the same time, it's a tsunami of emotions that overwhelmed him and he feels himself drowning in a sea of pitch and darkness. Nothing seems real, every thought seems to slip out of his hand, like a balloon attached to a rope that flies away, and is lost forever in the sky. Then it explodes when, like Icarus, it is too close to the sun. It explodes, like a time bomb that seemed to have been waiting for a lifetime.

«N-not… not… you… why… you let him do it! You shouldn't have had to! You shouldn't have, you n- " 

The evil Morty turns towards him, with a lightning bolt: the exposed eye wide open on nothing, devoid of emotion, heat, coldness, wickedness and love. Canceled of everything, I am only pregnant with absolute nothingness. Not even disappointment. 

"He did it all by himself!" He yells, suddenly and, out of control, kicks Morty's chair. He falls backwards, hits his head and can't even take it in his hands. He lets out a groan of pain, then grits his teeth. It hurts, very bad. Contact with the floor was devastating. He sees everything blurred. 

The other Morty approaches him, drops to his knees and pulls him by the hair, lifting his head a few inches from his. "It's all your fault! Only your! If not… if he hadn't softened up like this for _you_ , now he'd be in my lab getting raped by a super sophisticated machine and not here, rotting on the floor of your fucking garage! Feel bad, Morty! He died for you, and I'll kill you anyway! You'll have the ending you deserve, you useless little piece of shit that you are! Who knows what the fuck he saw in you! " 

«Shall we shoot him?», One of the Ricks, who has remained silent until then, takes up his rifle. 

"No, I'll take care of it! But not here! »Says the other, nervous, admonishing the initiative to open the mouth of that apparently submissive Rick. A Rick who is not Rick. In any way. 

"K-Kill me here," Morty pleads, and the other seems to take that request as one more reason to do the opposite of everything. He unties it quickly, with shaking hands and, pulling out a gun from behind his back, pulls it up and points it at him. As if Morty could ever do anything to rebel and run away, as he turns his gaze back on Rick's dead body, paler every moment. The bloodstain beneath him widens and gets blacker and blacker. Morty trembles but can't take his eyes off. 

"With me!" Orders the other Morty, then gestures to one of the Ricks to open the portal, exhorting him with a hard pat on the shoulder and, when the two underlings do so, he moves his chin indicating them to enter. As soon as they do, Morty feels himself being tugged again in the face of the pulsing green that has accompanied him on many adventures and is now the gateway to his death. 

The two Ricks disappear, and as soon as they too are about to take that step, the evil Morty stops. He turns to Rick, then back to the portal. 

"Fools," he murmurs and lets Morty go, starting to laugh out loud. To laugh with such enthusiasm that, if it were a different situation, he would laugh too. 

"W-What ... what the hell ..." Morty tries, as the other approaches Rick's body, and he wants to scream at him to stay away from him, to respect what his grandfather did and _why_ he did it _._ But it stops that intent when the evil Morty takes the _portal gun_ from Rick's jacket and uses it to close the portal. For no reason. Or maybe yes, but he misses what it could be. His head is too clouded with despair of losing Rick to be able to formulate a coherent thought.

"Oh, fuck! I should have been an actor, I do just fine the _piece of shit_ role! After all, it's not that hard for me, ”the other says again, then turns to Morty and plants his hands on his hips. A grin of pure satisfaction opens - it opens wide on his face and, immediately after, he removes the blindfold; two threads detach in a disturbing way from the other two dangling from his eyeball and, as he looks at him, he mumbles. «Advanced technology a par of bales. This thing I could have built in kindergarten. Stupid idiot, how did he take command of a whole Citadel, full of Rick? " He shakes his head, bitter. With that familiar way that makes his heart skip a beat. 

"What the-" Morty begins, shocked, even though he's starting to understand; maybe he really understood and, when he feels tears in his eyes again, he is sure of it. 

“Holy God, Morty! You're really slow to understand! »Smiles the evil Morty… which is Rick. Without any doubt. It's Rick, who is always full of surprises. Rick, who never does anything unless he has a solution. Rick, who would destroy the universe rather than die and, perhaps, even came close. 

"R-Rick?" Morty stutters, and although it's all clear now, wrapped in a handshake that wasn't a deal but a bluff - the only contact Grandpa and the other have had, he feels confused. . 

Rick, in the other Morty's body, laughs again. He puts her hand on his shoulder, and it's almost a hug; what Morty perhaps a little bit would like, right now, because he is in the throes of yet another psychological breakdown. One that, this time, he can't manage. 

"Do you think that only he is able to _transfer_ to other bodies? I invented this type of technology! " He opens his hand: stuck on the palm is a tiny black chip with a red button in the center «I shook his hand and activated the device. I moved into his body just before he shot myself. So, that's not me. " There is a certain satisfaction in his gaze as he says it, and when they both turn to look at that lifeless body again, it almost seems that it is not really Rick, lying on the ground. It seems that it is nothing more than a puppet without a soul, but which, until recently, was pulsing with life. 

Morty shivers. Morty thinks about the consequences because, yes, that vat of acid really did help after all.

"Rick ... Rick, you ... killed ... your _real_ Morty." 

"Hey! Stop with the accusations! First of all, if I hadn't synchronized the shot in time and then the transfer of consciousness, it would now be my brain, the crushed one. Besides, no Rick wants such a nephew. No Rick would be able to control it. It was dangerous and had to be stopped, period. Don't ask yourself too many questions, Morty. It was right. " 

"But he ... he was ..." 

"What? A real asshole? Arrogant, pathetic? What else, Morty? I have another million adjectives to pin on him. And none of these have pity on him. I have countless grandchildren across the universes, but none of them are such a piece of shit. I won't miss him, Morty. " Rick undoes his tie and unbuttons the top button of his shirt, as if he were suffocating in his clothes and in that small, weak body. Morty looks at him as a madman would look, not a brilliant grandfather who just saved his life and probably that of the entire planet. He knows he did it for a good cause and that, after all, he really cares about him… but is this really the price he had to pay? Losing the only authentic thing he had left? The only Morty who was born in his own universe? The only one who has seen birth, grow, fall, 

He thinks it with a pathetic innocence, which too often expands into positive thoughts even about those who don't deserve them, but Morty knows that his innocence was lost the day he buried himself. And this is too big a blow to swallow. Too painful. 

"Wh-what ... what are we going to do now?" 

Rick snorts and stretches his back, then looks at him as if Morty had just asked him for the moon or poison ice cream. 

“We'll take care of the Citadel first. As soon as they find out what happened, they will come back to find their President - I admit I would love to continue in this role and let them do whatever I want, but I get bored easily and the Citadel is a shit place! So… »he says, then he takes the device in the form of a blindfold, sticks it back to his eye and, a moment later, starts. "Uoooo, they must have had a great bang after this!" 

"Rick! What the hell did you do? ”Morty asks, but he knows exactly what happened. He understood this all too well. Rick did it: he destroyed the Citadel using the same device that controlled it, because he is a genius and he can do it; because sometimes it is right, but without principles. He always does what Morty would never do. Not _this_ Morty. 

"I ..." he belches, "fixed things," Rick explains, pulling off the blindfold again and throwing it to the ground. He tramples on it and destroys it with a heel, as if it were a cigarette that has just finished smoking. As if it hadn't exterminated an entire planet.

"H-how?" 

"Pat that Rick on the shoulder," he says, pointing his thumb to the exact spot where the portal had been before. “I stuck a microchip on him that I quickly connected to this thing. It's _burp_ exploded and with him every living being that shared traces of DNA with him within a few meters. A Citadel populated only by Mortys and Rick doesn't have much to hope for, in some cases. Obviously it's all limited to that reality and… yes, I know you are wondering but no, the chance that there are any survivors left is very low. Even if it were, we don't care. Their leader is dead, and without the blindfold they cannot be controlled. They will realize that they are free… as long as, as I said, there are survivors, ”he asserts. Cross your arms across your chest, close your eyes. As if nothing had happened. 

Morty is shocked. Much more than it has been on other occasions. There are too many things that he cannot bear, above the weak mantle of his fragile soul and, once again, the emotionality that has always distinguished him explodes in tears, which does not free him, rather condemns him to a life spent on to see too many of themselves dying and too many Rick as the architects of those destinies. He doesn't care if that Morty was bad, he doesn't care if he wanted to kill them and destroy the universe. He doesn't care if there was nothing moral about his actions. He cares that every human being has his own independence and that each of them should be respected, but the price of such justice always pays with pain and ... and maybe he's fed up. He is fed up because perhaps he misses the sad and monotonous life of his bad grades at school and his failures in love. He misses being normal and, with Rick, he can't get it back. What he knows, then, is that even if Rick left, things would never be as they were before. 

“Hey, hey. No, Morty, no! ”Rick exclaims, awkwardly, and when Morty looks up at his, he finds his lip clamped between his teeth, mortified. Guilty. “Don't feel guilty about what happened! We are alive! Now I just have to transfer my consciousness into a new body, identical to mine, and everything will be as before! It happened a million times! " 

«B-but not… not like this, Rick! Why do we always end up killing each other? "

“It's not us, remember? They are… they are other Ricks and other Mortys. It's never _really_ us. It's different! » He tries to reassure him. He puts another hand on his shoulder, and it's the only gesture Morty knows he can ask for. Rick will never go beyond that, never give him the comforting hug he asks for. It will always deprive him of those fatherly attentions he lacks. And now he is afraid that things may change again.

"And ... what if I became like this too? What if this is the fate of every Morty? "

"No it is not. You don't ... you can't become like that. "

"Because am I stupid? Because do _n't I get there_? Because am I not quite like you? » He scolds him. He wipes the tears with the back of his hand, but they don't stop flowing from his eyes; they hurt, they burn. He has never cried so much in his life. And since Rick's been there, he's been doing it more and more often, yet ... yet he doesn't want him to leave. 

Rick sighs in response. Looks guilty. That look has more answers than a thousand words, but Morty would like to hear them from his grandfather's mouth this time. To _invent_ honesty again, like the time they did it because of a vat of acid. 

“You're not like me, no. You are not a cynical bastard, unable to express their emotions, who cannot bond - or can do it without knowing how to prove it. You are not one who runs away, you do not run away from problems and from your family, when things get uncomfortable. That Morty could go home, and he decided to create his own empire, choosing solitude, as I have done in the past. You're not like that. " 

Morty barely opens his mouth, speechless for a moment by that attempt to prove him worth something, but without ever saying it directly; it's a lot more than I can ask for and, for now, that's okay. 

"Like all the other Mortys?" 

“Like any righteous Morty who lives in their own universe. But you are the most Morty of all. " Rick smiles, and Morty almost seems to see his grandfather's face as he does. He knows it's not true that he's the Morty plus Morty, even though he has been dreaming of it since they've been to the Citadel and discovered this fact. It is not, the most worthy is dead, and perhaps ... perhaps Rick is right, perhaps it is better to be one among many, than the one and only, but without affection. "I'm going to change... _myself_ " Rick says then and disappears for a while into the trap door in the center of the room. 

Morty spends the time that separates him from seeing his grandfather ruminating. He is not really convinced that Rick is so fond of him as to prefer him to others. He doesn't think there's anything about him that makes him different from other Mortys. One would be as good as the other, there would be no difference, just like his family, the one where he is now a guest, which is not really his, but at times he manages to forget that detail and live normally, as if it were; because there are no substantial differences: Jerry is a failure, Beth is unhappy and Summer is a bitch who loves a lot. It is them, yet they are not and this ... this is fascinating and at the same time terrible. 

He covers his face with his hands and, tired, he doesn't know if he really wants to continue with his adventures with Rick. Before that, they made him feel unique, unshared and, of course, his grandfather's favorite. But now everything has changed; he feels as if he has reached adulthood within a few seconds, without going through those indispensable years to really grow, gradually, perhaps without even realizing it. 

Rick returns. He hears his footsteps on the metal stairs of the bunker, then the hatch slams shut and, when he faces him again, Morty bares his face and looks at him. It's him again, light blue shirt, white coat and an unmistakable one-eyed. One of many Ricks, but the most Rick of all. Maybe he doesn't even deserve the privilege of supporting him. Maybe grandpa deserves someone worth something. It takes so little to be better than him ...

"Are you feeling better?" Rick asks, but he says it as if he already knows the answer. 

Morty nods, but he's lying. He has a void inside that he can't fill and no, he can't go on like this, he doesn't have the capacity. He doesn't have the strength. Then he raises his head and faces him, with the sole intent of challenging him and telling him everything, to admit that the two of them, together, are only capable of destroying and ruining their lives. 

But he doesn't have time to bring out that courage, because in front of his eyes is a gun he has never seen, but is somehow familiar. He sees only a blue light that hits his face, then falls backwards; someone catches it on the fly. Finally, it is only the darkness behind the closed pupils, and the memories slowly fragment until they disappear.   
  
  


  


"Morty? Morty? " It is Rick's voice, calling him, impatient. He feels powerful hands shaking him and, a moment later, opens his eyes with an ignoble effort. His head is bursting and, in the background, disconnected noises that he cannot distinguish, until he sees in front of him the TV on and Rick, in his field of vision, who is practically in front of him, bent over him and tries to wake him up.

"R-Rick? W-what ... what the hell happened? "  
“What happened, you ask? You fell asleep in front of the intergalactic TV! You missed the Big Brother ending with the corn on the cob! »He snorts indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping one foot on the ground; a thud against the carpet, which has the same impact as nails against a blackboard, in Morty's head. 

"A-asleep? I can't believe it, I've never fallen asleep watching intergalactic TV, ”he says, shocked, placing a hand on his forehead: it's sweaty and hot. 

Rick looks at him without saying anything, then abruptly pulls his hand away and puts his hand on it. "Uho! Damn, you burn like a burger griddle! You have a fever, Morty! " 

"No, no! I don't… I don't… I don't have fever! I'm fine! We could even go on a classic Rick and Morty adventure, can't we? ”He asks hopefully, and he feels in his heart that that's all he needs now, and he doesn't even know why. He just knows that he needs to find a balance with Rick, to make sure he's still his sidekick, _his favorite_ , even if he's sure he's not. 

Rick stares at him without any facial expression, then snorts and smashes a hand over his face, exasperated. “I don't want sick brats in my ship! And you are sick. We'll stay home until you recover, and I hope it happens soon, Morty. I don't give up on my suicidal attempts so easily! »He exclaims, then he sits down with a dead weight next to him, with the remote control clutched in his hands, starting to zap.

Morty turns and looks at him, and inside he has so many questions that he can't even focus, dormant inside him and, somehow, they hurt like hell.

"You give up because without me you are lost, ah!" 

"No! _Burp,_ I give up because I'm bored alone. "

"Why don't you admit I'm your favorite, once and for all?" 

"Because you aren't, Morty!" 

"So it's Summer, your favorite?" 

«We have already dealt with this, I calculate my affection for you on a scale that goes from a finger to a rusty metal beam up in the ass! From that point of view you are identical! " 

"So we're both your favorites?"

"You have a distorted way of looking at affection compared to pain, Morty," Rick sighs, then turns to look at him, and when Morty sees him smile, he understands a lot more than he could. He is amazed when a silence and lips stretched like that can give so much comfort. "But I'm not leaving with Summer, and that's enough for you."

Yes, that's enough. After all, fever is not the end of the world; that, perhaps, will have to fight it in the next adventure and, honestly, he can't wait.

**The End**


End file.
